Chapter Fourteen
I get a customary “Call me” text from Rey the next morning, but I wait until I get home from work to respond. He picks up on the first ring.
“Hello, lovah.”
“What’s up?”
“Your standard second-you-leave call from Cris, that’s all.”
He called Rey and not me? Not that I’ve been checking my cell to make sure I didn’t miss a message or anything…
“He wanted to know if he could see you again. I’m assuming yes? When do you have time?”
“Three weeks.”
“Spill.”
How does Rey have a hotline into my grey matter? “I gave him my number.”
Rey’s eyes must be the size of dessert plates, but he manages a cool, “I see.”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re mad he called me and not you.”
“Yeah.”
“You do remember the contract says he’s only allowed to contact you through me?”
“The contract he ignored?”
“For which you were going to stop seeing him?”
Dammit, Rey.
“Wouldn’t you stick to the letter of the law if you were him? And don’t pout those lovely lips and tell me you wouldn’t have broken it in the first place. That’s beside the point, you pretty little teacher’s pet.”
“But I gave it to him.”
“Might not be enough.”
Men.
“When he sends the contract, I could send it back with an amendment, make it official.”
Rey may be a pain in the ass, but only because he knows me far too well.
“Okay,” I grant, and we hash out the details.
* * *
“Tell me again why you can’t go to Chicago?”
Jack’s in full-on, flip-out mode, and this time there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m going to make it worse.
“I’m overdue to go up to LA. If we don’t get those vacancy numbers up, Cooper’s going to have Janis’s head and your balls.”
This is true. I’ve been punting my trip because of other fires I’ve had to put out. It also sounds more reasonable than, “There’s an imaginary line I can’t cross, and Chicago’s on the other side of it.”
“And what about you? I know you two are like fucking Laverne and Shirley or Lucy and Ethel or whatever—”
“You’re dating yourself, Jack. How old are you?”
He glares at me. Oops. But I know we’re okay when he rejoins, “Brenda and Kelly? Is that any better?”
I mouth no as I shake my head.
“My point is you aren’t going to be getting off with just a spanking, either.”
Jack’s choice of words is unfortunate. I can’t imagine what he’d do if he knew Constance has taken me over her knee and I wasn’t the only one getting off. I may prefer men, but my skills at pleasing a woman aren’t for nothing. If Jack had a clue, Leo wouldn’t be the only one recovering from a heart attack.
“You’re right,” I concede. Not a spanking. For breaking a promise? Maybe a whipping, but probably the cane from Constance. It’s her favorite. “And you’re making my argument for me. Send Julie. She’s been looking bored.”
“Julie’s looking bored because I’m going to fire her, and today might be the day. She’s not getting any new projects. You think Chow’s ready?”
“Yes. She’ll be fine. More than fine,” I amend at Jack’s glower. “Send Rodriguez to help her. They work well together.”
“You want anyone else in LA?”
“You know I’m a lone wolf.”
“Good. I can’t afford to give you anybody, anyway. Get it done this time, India. You’re not going back for a while.”
I stand to head back to my office. “Aye aye, cap’n.”
“Oprah and Gayle?” he calls after me.
“Better.”
* * *
Cris calls me on Saturday. Seeing his number come up on my screen stems the tide of frustration over the newest vacancy numbers Janis has sent. The way things are going, I am going to have to lease those tenants up myself. I don’t understand how we’ve managed to mop up so many messes, but this one is still spilled all over the floor. Call me the janitor because it’s cleaning day.
But first, I am absolutely going to take this call. Even though I know it’s him, I answer with a coy, “Hello?”
“Hey.”
He sounds nervous. It’s cute.
“What took you so long? Playing hard to get?”
“I plan to use this judiciously. I don’t want my phone privileges revoked.”
I snicker and cringe at the same time. “Fair enough. I was surprised you called Rey.”
“I thought he’d still be brokering the contracts. Should I call you instead?”
“No, that’s fine.”
“Also, I didn’t want…”
“For me to go postal on you for breaking our contract again?”
“I wasn’t going to put it like that, but yeah.”
Score yet another one for Rey. Would it kill him to be wrong every once in a while? “Now you’ve got yourself a permission slip.”
“I do. I promise not to abuse it.”
We chat on, and it’s nice. It feels…normal. I haven’t had a boy call me on the phone in years. It’s been ten minutes when he says he’ll let me go. “I hear you’re very important and extremely busy.”
“You heard right. I’m getting ready for another trip up to LA. Check the Times on Thursday.”
There’s a pause, and I regret it. I cover my eyes with my hand, although I don’t know who I’m hiding from. There’s no one else in the office, and Cris can’t see me. But when he says, “Will do,” with what I can tell is his crooked smile halfway across the Pacific, I feel the pleasant burn I get whenever he says anything that distills to I like you.
* * *
When I get up to LA, I give the cabbie the address of a building Janis has been telling me is waiting on maintenance before we can put more families in. The guy eyes me suspiciously in the rearview mirror.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“I wouldn’t wear those pearls in that neighborhood,” he advises, putting the cab into gear and locking the doors.
“I work for the housing authority.” Same thing, every time.
When we pull up to the complex, I’m surprised to see cars in the parking lot. This whole building is listed as unoccupied for major repairs, but these aren’t maintenance trucks. There are kids playing in the yard, music drifting from windows. I check the Post-it in my purse to make sure I haven’t gotten the wrong address, but I haven’t. I verify the property listings on my Blackberry to make triple-sure, but no. It’s there.
Anger rips through me. How dare you misuse public funds and keep families from getting housed? It’s followed by a pang of sheer insult. You honestly thought you could hide this from me? After that, I’m flooded with cold, hard satisfaction. You’re going down, Janis. Hard.
I give the driver another address before getting on my phone.
“Jack, we’ve got a problem.”
While we’re strategizing, I go on a tour of all the buildings we’ve been told are vacant for repairs. Half of them are filled. There’s no sign of work being done on the others. I’ll have to pore over every cent on the books, but I suspect the maintenance funds are being diverted and Janis and several accomplices are collecting rent from the occupied properties under the table. Do the families living there think they’re legit housing authority tenants? This is a fucking disaster. I’m pissed it’s taken me so long to figure it out, but it could’ve taken a lot longer. Nothing in the receivership protocols indicates site visits for all properties.
After I’ve done my survey, I have a conference call with Cooper and Jack, and we make a plan. We’ll do some more digging before we confront Janis to try to figure out how far this goes and who else might be involved. Cooper’s livid, but not primarily at me. She’s done the same calculus I have—it could’ve been worse.
A few hours later, the cab drops me off at LAHA’s main offices, and I play dumb for the rest of the day. I hole up in an office left empty by one of the people who was fired when the agency first went into receivership. From there, I dive down the rabbit hole. My email outbox gets stacked with virtual reams of data, stuff I’ll need to have associates scour to work out who’s involved in this.
Janis, as friendly as she ever is, stops by on her way out and tells me not to burn the midnight oil. I tell her not to worry, even though I’ll be here through the night and possibly the next night, too. But the only thing on fire around here is going to be her. Janis is going to be a pile of ashes by the time I leave LA. Which may be never, based on what I’m finding. For seeming so dumb, Janis and her compatriots have been clever in their cover-up—but not cleverer than me.
I work through the night, my only company some stale vending machine crackers and more phone calls with Jack and Cooper. Jack announces he’ll be flying up later in the morning to deal with this. That’s why his name’s on the letterhead and not mine.
As the sun rises, I do a quick scrub-down with paper towels in the employee bathroom and change my clothes before making myself a cup of coffee. For the first time ever, I miss Lucy. This stuff is egregiously disgusting. I shrug it off and put on my bitch face. Today is going to be ugly.
* * *
Saturday rolls around. I’m still in LA. I’ve had to buy new clothes; I was expecting to stay a couple of days, but it looks like I’ll be here a couple of weeks at the least. Janis has been fired, as have a dozen other people who were involved in the cover up. Some of them will be arrested for fraud. It’s a nightmare through and through, and the only bright side is that Constance has flown out to manage some of this shitshow herself, including handling the press.
My phone rings in the afternoon as I’m plowing through some numbers with half a dozen associates Jack’s sent up, and I excuse myself. I deserve to take five.
“Hello?”
“How are you holding up?”
Cris must’ve seen the coverage of this royal clusterfuck in the Times. And possibly called Rey. My shoulders drop three inches hearing his voice.
“Fine,” I chirp, not wanting to let him know how taxing this is. I’m exhausted, and all we’re turning up is more shit to hit the fan. It’s going to get much worse before I see a glimmer of better.
“Okay. You can tell me if you’re not.”
I wish that were true, but even the fact he’s offering makes me feel better.
“Tell me what to do to help, and I’ll do it. We don’t technically have a contract, but I’m responsible for you, Kit.”
My lips part, and I have to take a few deep breaths before I can answer him. “You’re doing it. Thank you.”
“Can you still come on Friday?”
“Oh yes.” I told Jack I’d work every minute between now and then, but if he wanted me to keep being a functional human being, he needed to give me the weekend—and he’d agreed.
“Good. I’ll pick you up at eleven?”
“Ten thirty, if that’s okay. I’m coming from LA.”
“Even better. I’ll see you then.”
We say our goodbyes, and after I’ve pressed the end call button, I hold my phone to my chest. That two-minute conversation has fortified me to walk back into the office and give more orders. It’s going to be a long six days.